The theme for the cocktail party was masquerade. Odile had one of her many little black dresses, topped with a decadent black mask that she got at a vintage shop. A man wearing a tuxedo without the bowtie, and a gorgeous mask that covered two thirds of his face appeared next to her.
What she saw made her want to see more of him.
They were standing near the bar, where she admired the way the tuxedo accentuated his body. She was surprised that she felt herself get wet, startled because she did not recognize it at first. Not until the first bit of gin filled her chest. His elbow brushed hers, and she felt their contact zing through her entire body. He looked at her briefly, and although her cocktail dress provided more décolletage than she would show during the day, it was not that provocative. But when the masked gentleman looked at her and she saw his eyes linger in the direction of the swell of her bust with her peripheral vision, she felt completely nude.
She carried her gin and tonic with lime to a corner where she planned to play the wallflower she usually was and sip her drink slowly. The masked gentleman cornered her and instead of feeling like prey, she felt herself grow wetter. He had gotten her wet when she did not even know what his eyes looked like. When she did not even know what his face looked like.
He smelled of cigarette smoke and gin. She smiled out of nervousness, but it sufficed for a greeting. His lips moved in what could be construed as a smile, as he took a sip of his drink.
“I want to tell you a story…” He said when he swallowed.
Odile looked at him with raised eyes, almost embarrassed with at how her chest heaved.
“Is it storytime? I thought this was an adult party.”
She stood up straight, took a sip of her drink and looked at him.
“I want to tell you a very…adult story…”
A soft chuckle escaped her, he amused her with his quick comeback. Thrusting her chin out, some of her drink spilled on his hand as she did. Her masked gentleman did not flinch.
He moved in close enough to her that the prominent noses of their masks touched quickly.
“A man in a mask walks into not a masquerade-themed cocktail party and sees the sexiest woman he has ever seen in his life. And he knows she is sexy even though he has only ever seen her in a mask. So he walks up to her, after a quick smoke and hopes the scent of gin and cigarettes will intoxicate her…”
Odile did not realize she was not breathing until he paused. She did like the scent of gin and cigarettes, on him in particular. She looked at him loving the shield of her mask, masking her emotional state.
“And then?”
“Do you like that story?” he asked.
“Yes, go on…”
“But I do not know the end…maybe you can tell me how it ends?”
“Well the lady was very intoxicated by the scent of the man, who she had noticed him from a distance but…”
“But what?” he interrupted her urgently. “But what?”
“She wasn’t sure she wanted to get carried away by him…”
He looked at her, and she saw his eyes muted by his mask.
“You’re very beautiful, I want to get closer to you.”
“You’re pretty close now aren’t you?” she smirked.
“Not nearly close enough,” he said, his finger touching the very corner of her smile.
“I don’t even know you,” she said, smiling fully.
“Maybe you do? Maybe we met at another party, in another life? We are wearing masks after all…”
Odile nodded, maybe it was his suggestion, or maybe the fact that even in a big city like this she always ran into the same people.
“Maybe then, maybe we do. So in the story the masked man and woman know each other. Now what?”
“Dance?”
He offered his hand to her, and she took it. Arousal hit her deeply from the sensation of her satin glove and the heat of his hand. There was a live band, and a few people moved intuitively to the music which was a heady world mix: chanson meets samba.
When he held her close and they moved more demonstratively than the others, Odile saw that another couple got inspired by them. Their intoxicated bodies moved together as well, parallel to them. Her arms about her masked gentleman, their masks caressed as he pressed her close to him.
“I do know you,” he said. “I know everything I need to know about you right now, right in this minute.”
His breath was warm and fluid against the hollow just under her ear, his lip caressing the soft tip of her earlobe.
Odile nodded looking down at the wooden parquet floor. She saw a pearl on the ground, and reached for her neck wondering if it was hers. It was not, but when she pulled at her neck, his hand followed hers. They clasped hands, as he held her even closer to him with his other hand.
The music never stopped, but they did. She grudgingly let his hand go, even as his held onto hers.
“Let’s go if you want, there is a lovely bar nearby. They make amazing old time cocktails, and they have really nice gin. You do like gin?” He said, his hand on the small of her back.
Odile laughed, and they walked out of the party. And barely down the street was the bar that she never noticed before, even though she knew this neighborhood. They walked in still wearing their masks, and a gorgeous shapely semi-androgynous woman walked them to a very private booth.
It was not until they were seated that Odile realized they were still wearing masks. And she did not think to take hers off.
A sage gin and tonic was place before her with fresh lime, he drank his straight.
“So you were telling me a story, we left off and the masked couple was dancing, started a trend and left the party now that everyone was dancing around them. Maybe a new trend?” She relayed.
He smiled at her, as he put down his gin next to his phone, tapping hers and revealing her screensaver. He placed his finger on her phone.
“It looks like Louise Bourgeoise? But no?” He looked at her.
“No, it is the catacombs in Paris.”
“So you like Paris…”
“Who doesn’t? Finish my story.”
“The masked man wants to take her deep,” he said letting his words sink in. “Like the catacombs, private places where only they can be. But they settle for a small atmospheric bar, and he discovers that she is even deeper than he imagined.”
“But you know me? I mean he knows her?”
He kissed her, his thumb caressed the hollow under her ear where he breathed that he knew her when they were dancing so soft and then his lips were on hers. Her hand rested on one of his lovely thighs which she had been admiring among other parts of his body. His hand covered hers, as it moved along his thigh. She looked at him, blinked a feather from her mask and her eye caught a bright glint from the gold of his. Her finger trailed between his lips, He sucked it in before he kissed her again leaving her finger suspended.
Odile slit her eyes as her masked gentleman kissed her neck, and she pressed her palm on his thigh. Through slit eyes, she saw the gorgeous hostess looking at them. Covertly, her eyes flicked on them like a flame bright and dark. The hostess’ finger rolled unconsciously along her hardened nipple that Odile could see through her stiff shirt.
“The masked woman is very wet,” he said softly, almost as if to himself. But Odile realized he was telling her the story again. “Or at least the masked gentleman thought so? He wanted to slip his hand under her little black dress and see. Do you think she lets him see? Do you think he lets her feel if she is wet?”
Odile nodded, her hand moving higher up on his thigh.
The hostess leaned against the doorjamb as if she was looking in to see how the patrons of the bar were, but she was really positioning herself to see better what was happening under their table. Odile looked away, her fingers digging in the crotch of his pants. His hand was was solidly under her dress caressing the wet crotch of her thong which barely covered her labia, there so he caressed her half-covered, half-naked clit.
She swooned as his long fingers swirled around her clit. His fingers were smooth, but a ragged nail scraped her. Odile was so aroused, the unexpected roughness pleasured her as much as his gentleness. Her legs opened more as he made it clear that he intended to make her come right there in the dark corner of the bar where he did not know, but the hostess watched every expression she made. It was almost as if the same thing was happening to both of them. Odile looked at and away from the other woman. Looking at her while she was being rubbed into such a fierce orgasm, turned Odile on. He inserted his thick finger into her, and she closed her eyes and gasped as he filled her. The hostess gasped as well, and Odile smiled softly.
The suggestion of wetness she had felt seeing him at the cocktail party first, was now a full out flood. She needed him rougher, and her hips moved under the table while she caressed the periphery of his crotch. Too distracted by what he was doing to her to give him any pleasure, but holding onto him for dear life.
She closed her eyes involuntarily when she was about to come. Her eyes closed, she wondered if the hostess knew? Did she know she had come?
Falling back into the booth, misty with light sweat from being finger fucked, Odile’s hand moved back down his hard thigh.
“Your sweat tastes delicious. I can taste every bit of the exertion of our fuck,” he said licking her neck.
It was already late and they stayed even later. They talked about nothing, but it was the heaviest nothing she had ever spoken about. It was a long time before they got up to leave. Walking past the hostess who smiled at them knowingly.
“Come again.”
Odile hoped they would.
He pressed her to the glass building, where she approximated the hostess would be standing on the opposite side. He kissed her, her backside took in the heat of his hand and the coolness of the glass against it. He kissed her while he hailed a taxi for her.
“So you never finished the story…” she purred.
She felt his teeth against her cheek, as he laughed softly against it.
“To be continued…”
Blocks away heading toward her house in the back of the taxi, his masked face burned into her memory. She did not really even think about not seeing his eyes, until she put the key into her door…
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